The Look of a Believer
by munkinette
Summary: When a deal is struck between a beast and a beauty, not even they can anticipate the outcome.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: I do not own OuaT, nor do I gain financial profit from my writing. I just get this unhealthy compulsion to play with Robert Carlyle's characters. **

* * *

**This is my first attempt at writing fanfiction, at writing anything longer than a blog entry, actually. Little, timid steps, as English is not my native tongue, so please apologize the impending glitches; I do my best to be less and less of those. Literature is not my major either; I'm into the science business, so this might sound clumsy and awkward to those in the literary field. I do love books thought, almost as much as Belle does.  
**

**To those of you reading my story, a heartfelt "thank you" and a humongous hug. :)**

* * *

As opposed to being betrothed to Gaston without having a say in the matter, Belle couldn't help but feel a little bit of pride and rejoice at having everything to do with her now belonging to Rumplestiltskin. He came to answer her pleas and saved her father's kingdom from the ogre attacks, and in return she promised him forever. His request for her she did not quite understand - what would the most powerful, frightening man in all the realm gain by tying to himself an inexperienced girl for all her days - but it seemed a more than fair price to pay for the lives of her people. Her kingdom would be saved, though it would no longer be hers. In fact, nothing will be hers any longer. Even she will cease to belong to herself.

That was the one thought that most disturbed her. She was a smart, independent, outspoken girl and wondered if her transformation from princess to Rumplestiltskin's caretaker would crush her spirit as well as her free will. If he would crush her and all traces of what she once had been. But Belle had high hopes that it won't happen. She was a girl who possessed the talent of finding the upside to any situation. She was reasonable, always looking further than first appearance, and gave forgiveness and affection easily. And she also knew that her summon for Rumplestiltskin came, apart from everybody's desperate need to end the people's agony, from another equally desperate desire of her own heart. A longing that she wondered if his magic had been powerful enough to sense, and if it was part of the reason why he had asked for her as his price. It was an inner struggle that even she could not quite make sense of, whispers inside her head telling her that there must be some greater challenge in this life than becoming the dutiful wife of a dull man and bearing his children. An aching hope for something more, for adventure and the feeling of self-fulfillment, no doubt seeded in her by her love of books and all the mysteries they uncovered.

These feelings gave her the strength to not shudder when Rumplestiltskin's hand... claw... hand… ever so lightly touched the small of her back, guiding her out of her father's castle and into her new life by his side. Neither his monstrous nails, scratching the fine embroidery of her dress, nor his mischievous, high pitched and mocking laugh could put out the tiny, hopeful humming deep inside of her, a vibration that had accompanied the beating of her heart for as long as she could remember. She has, after all, always dreamed of being in the position to do the brave thing.

Books have also seeded in her a dream of romance, of finding an intelligent, intriguing man who would challenge her to become a better woman. And she desired to reciprocate, by offering him her good advices, generous smiles, nice temper and the smallest, undeniably strongest, gestures of love. And although such thoughts of romance weren't particularly appealing when concerning Rumplestiltskin, and would certainly have to be put away for the time being - or, most likely, forever -, her insightful, gentle nature did want to aid him in any way that she could. After all, no other man would be a bigger challenge for her than the feared Dark One. And he did help her people a great deal, only asking for her in return, for which she was grateful. He seemed so alone, sitting in his corner of the carriage, looking smaller than the legend spoke of him, wound up in his dark cloud of powerful magic, yet seeming almost powerless when it came to speaking to her.

As the carriage set in motion and Belle felt just the softest tingle raising the hairs on her skin, she began suspecting that this was going to be a little more than the conventional ride. Rumplestiltskin's magic was all around them and was softly taking its course as they rode past the boundaries of the kingdom towards his Dark Castle. Just before the darkness settled in, Belle could see that the lives of her people were slowly being restored to what they had been before the war. Her heart widened at that, taking in the sight of the healed lands and knowing that there will once more be children running about without fear of being taken to the battlefield. For the first time in years, the crops were no longer endangered and the skies were as blue as she remembered them from her childhood. It seemed that all the blood red that tinted the horizon just a day before has concentrated into the inexplicably large number of poppies rising all over the fields. Suddenly, Belle's heart shrank back in, remembering that she was never going to see or run those fields again, as she was on her way to a sorcerer's lair. She turned her gaze to the artisan of this reborn world, his features, just like his magic, a complete mystery to her. She could've swore she saw deep sorrow, as well as tiny gleams of remote hope in his earlier glares, but he was so deep covered in darkness and roaring with magic that she might have just as well imagined it. He was sitting there, immovable, waiting with the patience of a man who has been spinning straw into gold for more than a hundred years her age.


	2. Princess

They have barely spoken two words to each other since Rumplestiltskin came to Belle's kingdom. He addressed the ones around her instead, either her father or Gaston, and his words were not kind for either of them. He accused the former of cowardice and the latter of selfishness, while unexpectedly praising her courage to them. It made Belle wonder how could a man be simultaneously appalled and pleased by the same occurrence, but cast the thought away as a trait of his dual nature, one more thing that she would have to get used to. He bowed to her and spoke brief words with what she thought was the faintest tint of mockery while helping her into the carriage, and it was when she last heard him speak. The uneasy silence was probably the reason why she felt they had travelled for ages, with just the soundless twinkle of a candle between them. Riding in a magic carriage, Belle would have expected them to reach their destination in a heartbeat, but as they didn't, her thoughts strayed on matters of the heart, particularly on her lack of knowledge on the fact that Rumplestiltskin possessed one. She was on the verge of feeling unexplainably compassionate towards him again, when one sudden flicker of his body as he sprawled from the couch and raised one scaly hand in the air reminded her of his power, and let her know there was trouble ahead.

He must have sensed something, Belle thought, something that didn't please him to the very least, because the look on his face was gloomy.

- "Princess," his hoarse voice startled her, both by the unexpected breaking of silence and by how much lower it sounded as compared to a few hours before, "there is danger approaching. I cannot say of which sort, but I sense magic from afar and this one is neither good intended, nor powerless." Despite the troubling news his words brought, the fact that he spoke to her at all gave Belle vague reassurance, soothing some of her nerves to see him acting this way towards her. Rumplestiltskin claimed Belle's hands as he stood up straight next to her, and her whole body shivered at his proximity and unexpected contact. She could have sworn his hands trembled as well.

- "I will cast an invisibility spell on you, as well as a decoy spell to prevent whoever is coming from sensing either you or my magic on you. You need not worry, you shall be protected. Once it all ends..." and for a moment Belle thought he knew exactly what was going to happen, something utterly terrible for him with which he was surprisingly at peace with... his eyes went dark for just a second after speaking the words, then recovered their dark yellow shade... "all you'll have to do to be visible again is to place to your lips something made of gold."_ "Kiss gold..."_ she thought, and couldn't help thinking that it was actually a nice way to break a spell. She fixed her eyes on the little necklace she was wearing and nodded affirmatively. She also managed to mumble "Thank you", which seemed to surprise him as much as it did her. She couldn't bring herself to ask him anything, and her mind still lingered on the fact that his unexpected care for her safety has touched her so. She tried to dismiss the thought by rationalising that, as she was now one of his possessions, he was simply acting towards protecting his investment. His fame spoke of a creature who rejoiced most in inflicting pain, so she figured he will see to it that she comes unharmed at the present time, so that he can watch her fall apart later, probably by damage slowly caused by his own hand. But as those were far too dark thoughts for Belle, her positive side sprang to the surface once more, and she chose to think of it as a nice thing for Rumplestiltskin to do, making a mental note to properly thank him later, when her fear, now fully installed as the carriage had stopped moving, will drain out of her body and she will be able to speak again.

The moment Rumplestiltskin stepped out of the carriage she simply disappeared from plain sight. Belle kept staring down in disbelief at the empty space where her body should be, with her mind unable to grasp the thought that she was both there and she wasn't. Her chest was pounding most intensely, and yet she could not see a thing. If she would imagine that she wasn't there at all, not trapped in a frightful situation but safely back to her father's castle, no one would be able to deny that fantasy to her. A sharp giggle piercing the air brought her back to reality and she peeked on the little window in the back of the carriage to see what was happening outside. She saw they where deep inside a forest, as black as a theatre curtain in front of which Rumplestiltskin was facing a man in an equally black cloak. The man was larger, and that was all Belle could say about him, his cloak hiding most of his face from sight. As he moved closer to Rumplestiltskin, something flashed in his hands and Belle realised with a muffled cry that he was holding a dagger. A rather large, sinuous yet sharply pointed dagger. The words the stranger spoke cut perfectly clean through the night's air and made the blood freeze in her invisible veins:

- "I command you to stab yourself. " At the man's words, Rumplestiltskin only grinned, such a wicked look on his face that Belle wondered just which one of them was the more ferocious beast: the man claiming a death or the monster rejoicing at it. At his own death! But then she understood.

As Rumplestiltskin's mocking laugh pierced the air and danced upon her skin, even Belle, as inexperienced as she was in deal making, knew that this was a very poor choice of words for someone who apparently desired to end with Rumplestiltskin.

- "Don't you want my power for yourself, dearie?" He sang along and Belle felt hypnotised by the sound of his voice alone. She involuntarily shut her eyes and heard the other man grind bitter words between his teeth:

- "No one should have this kind of power. To rule the world... to bend everything and everyone to his will... beyond all good and evil... it has to stop. It will stop! It will die with you."

- "Oh, but one has. And it's beyond your wildest dreams still..." Rumplestiltskin whispered, colouring the last word with a tint of despise, and when Belle fluttered open her eyes to see his expression what she saw was him plunging the dagger deep below his own heart. She stopped herself from crying out, covering her mouth with invisible hands. As if that sight wasn't frightening enough, what she saw then shocked her even more. The looks on the two men's faces, the victory that wasn't quite victory, and the defeat that wasn't quite defeat either. In fact, she was positive that it went the other way around. She had never in her life seen two other expressions that were supposed to be the opposite and yet looked so much alike. The victim and the attacker, switching roles in front of her eyes.

But then Rumplestiltskin fell to the forest floor and Belle felt utterly lost.


	3. Woman

Belle's entire life flashed before her eyes as if she was the one about to meet her demise. Her childhood and adolescence, the long, blissful hours spent hidden behind a pile of books in her favourite, secret spot in the castle's library, reading about knights returning home victoriously and the brave princesses that charmed them on their quests, about slaying fire dragons and uncovering kind heroes hidden underneath magic layers of unpleasant appearance. How all this and so much more was lost once the war came to the kingdom's boundaries, and with it the helplessness, frustration and despair, and, finally, how some things were miraculously regained with the arrival of Rumplestiltskin and the hope that flourished through their deal, the promise of a healed land, clear sky and tranquil life.

Rumplestiltskin, the very man lying now only ten meters away from her in a pool of blood of alarmingly increasing size. Belle felt something snap inside of her, or was it something new just coming together, and, practical as she was, instantly decided that he did not deserve such an end. Despised as he were by others, she would not allow the saviour of her kingdom to lose his life in what she thought to be an extraordinary stupid manner. No, having Rumplestiltskin slaughtered in front of her eyes, either by his own or by foreign hands, would simply not do. She was his caretaker now, was she not? That did not limit her responsibilities to cleaning his clothes and fetching his meals, but meant providing for him and his well being, particularly when he was in trouble. And, in the very short time she'd spent with him, he has never been into more trouble. Somehow, "trouble" and "Rumplestiltskin" didn't sit well together in Belle's mind, which made her wonder just how many of the other myths about him were inaccurate, since it became clear, in the light of the recent events in the Dark Forest, that he could, in fact, get into a lot of trouble quite easily.

But this wasn't the time or place for wandering thoughts. Summoning all her courage, relieved when she realized it hadn't left her after the avalanche of puzzling events in the past hours, Belle did the brave thing and sneaked out of the carriage, barefoot, breathless and careful to make even less sound than a twig twitching in the wind. She felt as if the forest was on her side, a restless feeling floating in the night's air, the sound of the leaves caressing each other in the strong wind precisely the distraction that she needed. She circled a seemingly conscious Rumplestiltskin and planted herself firmly at the back of his attacker, nearest to the forest rim. If needed, that position offered a satisfactory escape route, while it provided her with a fair glance at Rumplestiltskin, who was still lying on the forest floor. If he was indeed powerless or just unwilling to attempt anything to save himself, Belle could not tell. His eyes were half blank, but she could note the surprise in them when he tilted his head to the left and looked her way. From the intensity of his gaze she knew instantly that it was no coincidence, he was looking straight into her blue eyes that were blinking nervously below his magic. However, the look on his face gave her no indication as on how to proceed, so she made a quick decision to handle the situation the old fashioned way.

Shifting on her heels, she scouted the forest for the closest, thickest piece of wood she could carry, which, once located, she carefully picked up, not once letting the stranger out of her sight. The man was so absorbed by feasting his eyes on Rumplestiltskin's agony that Belle encountered no opposition to hitting him hard in the back of the head, wood cracking beneath her fingers, his unconscious form falling at once, soundless, as if he instantly evaporated from his black cloak. _"Could it have been this easy?"_ Belle questioned herself, looking down in disbelief at her unexpected success. When she managed to lift her gaze, she saw a wide eyed Rumplestiltskin trying hard to keep his eyes in his head and his jaw from unhinging.

- "By Gods, woman..." he murmured and Belle frowned, feeling her face turn the colour of beetroot in autumn. So she just went from "Princess" to "woman" in a matter of minutes... well, to be fair, she did just throw a fairly indecorous spectacle... Belle didn't have enough time to decide if she wanted to laugh at herself, get properly crossed or feel in awe, because Rumplestiltskin closed his eyes, remaining limp on the forest floor, and her colour turned white as paper instead.

She rushed to his side at once and, following his instructions, brushed her lips to the piece of gold at her neck, the invisible cloak shedding off at once, leaving her form wrapped in a purple cloud of dust that made her nose wrinkle. She wasn't sure if this had been the right thing to do, staying hidden until they were safely back to the carriage would've probably been safer, but she needed all the available stimuli to keep her alert, to remind herself that everything happening was real, and her being invisible certainly defeated this purpose. She paid little attention to the stranger, only having a quick look back at him every now and then, to make sure he hadn't moved. Her main concern now was Rumplestiltskin, and she knelt beside him, sliding one of her arms under his head to bring it to her lap and resting the other across his chest, her hand shifting lower to check his wound. To her moves, Rumplestiltskin, still unconscious, responded by nudging forward into her, a gesture that reminded her of her pup from back home, cuddling against her warm body on cold winter nights, and she stared down in disbelief. _"Is this really the feared Dark One?" _she silently wondered. Forcing herself to concentrate on practicalities, Belle decided she had to stop his bleeding first, then move him to the carriage in order to reach his castle as soon as possible. Over there, in the proximity of his magic, he would have the best chance to survive. She fumbled with the petticoats of her golden dress, ripping a few stripes of cloth which she then used to apply pressure on the wound, also managing to lift him up a little to slide one cloth under his back and knot it across his chest to keep the other bandages in place. Her work looked terribly clumsy, but she decided it would have to do for now.

- "Don't you... dare... dying..." a breathless, genuinely concerned Belle warned as she set herself to the task of either dragging Rumplestiltskin's unconscious body to the carriage, or help him crawl, whenever he regained consciousness. His hundreds of years of life seemed to be reflected in his weight, and Belle let a soft curse escape her lips, at which she heard Rumplestiltskin's weary chuckle, his grip on her arms softening unexpectedly.

- "I have... absolutely... no intention of dying, dearie," he whispered after a while, equally breathless but smug nonetheless, "not before I take you... to my castle", he added, his face turning towards hers, and Belle could feel his hot breath caressing her neck. She tried to ignore her body's traitorous shudder because she had absolutely no idea if it had been caused by fright, anticipation, or a combination of both.

They made it to just near the carriage when Rumplestiltskin suddenly grabbed Belle's wrist to an almost painful degree.

- "The dagger," he spoke in urgent, ragged breath. Belle untangled herself from his embrace and quickly ran back to the fortunately still unconscious man, picking up the dagger from where it had been dropped. As she cleaned the blood off it, Belle remembered that she had heard stories about this magic item, hushed, fearful whispers about the famous dagger that supposedly granted control over the Dark One. She had never really believed in its existence until tonight. How many other things had she been oblivious to? Lost in her trail of thoughts, Belle barely noticed that Rumplestiltskin shivered every time she traced her fingers across the blade. How powerful was this magic, if just by such a small act she could impose on him this way?

She walked back to the carriage and returned the dagger to his trembling hands, and it seemed that his surprise only grew wider at her gesture. He couldn't have possibly expected her to claim the dagger for herself, to attempt to turn him into her servant or, even worse, finish what the other man has started, could he? Either way, there was no time to make guesses about his paranoid, darkened mind, not with the stranger so close to them still and with small patches of pink flesh starting to appear across Rumplestiltskin's face, hands and neck. Seeing that Belle continued to stare at him, he knotted his brows in mild embarrassment and she decided not to waste another second, practically pushing him through the carriage door, making him land on the couch.

- "Seven hells!" He shouted, pain rushing through him at the hard contact. He gave her an angered look but said nothing more. Barely able to move his hands, he magically set the driver-less carriage back into motion. In the blink of an eye, they reached their destination. Belle's eyes widened. Why hadn't he done this before, instead of having them spend hours on the road? Maybe there was no point in over-using magic, Belle wildly guessed, and made another mental note to ask him later. She will have her answers, but for now his castle rose before them, lighted by the full moon and encircled by chilly winds, all tall towers and backened stone. His home. _Their _ home. If she didn't know any better, Belle would say that she was actually relieved to have made it here.

Rumplestiltskin too had never been happier to reach his estate. Although in massive pain from his wound, he was starting to regain some of his strength, due to the closeness of several of his potions alone. However, his mood was darker than before and his worries now laid further than physical discomfort. To his surprise, his thoughts were mostly revolving around the girl currently helping him climb what seemed like an infinity of front stairs. Did she just risk her own life to save his? And did she simply discard the power that she so easily could have acquired, and her freedom from their deal along with it? As the castle doors sprung opened, a surprisingly hopeful Belle and a pained and deeply puzzled Rumplestiltskin stepped onto the cold stone tiles, holding each other.


	4. Caretaker

As they continued to walk along a dark, chilly corridor, Belle could feel the magic reaching out from every nook and cranny, studying her, getting accustomed to her presence and enveloping them both to, once again, restore Rumplestiltskin's castle to life. The tall entrance doors slammed shut at their backs and, quicker than it took Belle's heart to rise to her throat, what it seemed like hundreds of candles lit up all around them, illuminating their way to what Belle imagined it would be the great hall. The gentle light brought warmth to the solitary passages and projected onto the walls playful shadows that looked eager to tell her tales long forgotten. Wishing to take it all in, Belle's eyes rarely blinked in wonder as the two of them continued to move clumsily towards the great room, their heavy footsteps tattooing patterns across the ancient tiles, Rumplestiltskin gripping at her shoulders for support.

Upon entering, Belle couldn't hold back a gasp. The room was imposing, larger than any in her father's castle, but what stole her breath was the incredibly large collection of trinkets and trophies that adorned it. Apart from what she supposed to be windows covered by long, thick drapes, the rest of the walls were practically cases filled with a fascinating array of objects that reeked of history, no doubt collected by Rumplestiltskin during his travels to pursue his innumerable deals. For the first time since she'd known him, Belle found herself thinking at him not as a frightening, dark magician or a pitiful, lonesome man, but as a man of culture and experience, and she just _had _to convince him to tell her some of the stories that his items kept.

A strong fire was already burning in the fireplace and the pleasant, accommodating warmth in the intriguing room did wonders for Belle's spirit. This felt... different. Not better, not worse, just different from what she had back home. And so very different from what she had anticipated! In truth, she did not expect Rumpelstiltskin's home to feel just like that, like a home, no. But, although she would very much miss the sight and feel of her castle, the familiarity, the memories and, most of all, the people, maybe there was a chance she would be... not unhappy here, either. All that was now in the past, and this will be her future. A future that, in candlelight and with her curiosity peaked, didn't seem quite as frightening anymore. The most significant part of her future was currently still clinging from her arm in the form of a bewildered and utterly frustrated Rumplestiltskin.

"I... you can let go now, dearie, I'm going to sit down," he announced miserably, and Belle softly disentangled herself from his embrace. Wincing, he slid into the great chair by the fire. As soon as he seemed firmly seated and as comfortable as he could be considering the circumstances, Belle moved closer in an attempt to get a better view of his wound. She placed her trembling fingers above it, mimicking a caress that she would not dare give, and forced her hands to steady as she started unbuttoning his vest. She was about to go for his shirt next when Rumplestiltskin, finally recovered from the original shock caused by her touch, plastered his left hand above hers, forcing her to stop.

"What... what are you doing?" His voice croaked while he clumsily attempted to push her hands off of him, realizing that her fingers tightly pressed to his chest produced him an even more distressful feeling than her unbuttoning his vest. Belle jumped back, more scared and worried by how cold his hands were than by him gripping her hand.

"Your wound, it needs cleaning..." she attempted, lamely.

"It's... no matter," he mumbled.

"No matter? You are still loosing blood and... "

"It will heal by itself eventually, dearie," he cut her short. "Faster, if I provide it with the appropriate magic. I just... need a moment, if you don't mind!" He spat the last words and he certainly could be unpleasant when he wished to be.

Belle felt a wave of dismay and another of anger coiling through her. If he didn't desire to be helped even in a situation such as this, then why had he wanted a caretaker in the first place? His words stung her in a way that not even she could make sense of.

"It's just that..." he continued mildly at seeing the look on her face, "I need to gather up my strength in order to do so. The prospect of climbing all the way to the turret is not quite appealing at the moment." He let out a soft, breathless giggle... _"And why in the seven hells am I explaining myself to her?"_ he thought to himself, horrified.

She rolled her eyes as one often does when confronted with a child in a temper torn between knowing they need the help and being too proud to ask for it.

"Let me do it then. Let me help, tell me what you need," she tried to speak the words as softly as she could.

"Tired of my company already?" he grinned, folding his bloodied hands in his lap.

"Well, I suspect your company will remain this poor until we get you fixed up and back on your feet again, wouldn't it? Better get on with it." He gaped at her and then frowned, a tint of displeasure rushing through his features before being rapidly replaced by curiosity.

"Or maybe you just want to learn the monster's weaknesses? Eh? Find your way out of my castle while I'm too weak to turn you into a snail?" He hissed as a sudden sharp pain rushed through his upper body and his words came out harsher than he intended them to be.

"I did not come all the way here to break our deal by trickery," she retorted, offended. "I'm only trying to help you, you stubborn man!" She caught herself before saying anything else, realizing that scolding her new master on her first day was probably not the best way to cement their relationship.

"Oh, that's rich!" He burst into a pleyade of maniacal giggles and Belle's eyebrows knitted, at a loss as on how to proceed with him.

Thankfully, reason got to Rumplestiltskin before Belle had to decide her next move. It was indeed going to be difficult caring for himself in his present state, that much he knew, with his magic weakened and his body as well. Like it or not, if he wanted to recover rapidly he would have to rely on this girl for help. The girl who now knew his secret and could, in one careless moment from his part, easily end him. He instinctively grasped the dagger, relieved to find it safely tucked inside his pocket. _"It's going to be an interesting night,"_ he thought to himself gloomily, then spoke, his tone almost defeated:

"Great hall, second corridor to the left, the stairs will take you to the turret." He stopped for a large breath of air, then continued:

"Second closet to the right, top shelf, blue bottle. You can't miss it, it's the only one that sparkles," he grinned, emphasising each syllable.

Grateful for his change of heart and suddenly empowered by her new task, Belle nodded her understanding and lunged for the corridor, grabbing one of the candles from the table on her way out. When she was about to place foot on the first stair, a sang-along voice resounded back in the room:

"Careful what you touch up there, dearie. Wouldn't want you returning potion-less and proud owner of a new tail." She shallowed hard and started climbing.

Behind her, Rumplestiltskin shrunk in his chair and sighed in dismay. This was _not _how he had planned to introduce himself and the estate to his new caretaker. He envisioned his quips and her trembling, possibly temporarily accommodating her in the dungeon, to prompt her fear a bit. Instead, he had to deal with a quite fearless caretaker actually willing to play her part! And that damned man on the road. He'd have to find out who he was and how he'd made it past the several spells protecting the dagger's hiding place. Who had helped him? Silly, pathetic souls thinking they could end the Dark One so easily... As furry gradually rose inside Rumplestiltskin, so did the fire in the fireplace, bolting strongly into the room. Ah, but there was time for that. There was time for everything. He was protected, for now, the dagger safely in his possession. The only thing he had to do was sit tight and wait for that puzzling little thing to come back.

"Belle..." he tested her name on his lips. Maybe he shouldn't have, he thought, a second later. She must be already up there, handling his magic. And names, names hold power. With his luck tonight, who knew what else could go wrong.

The closer Belle got to the turret, the thicker the air became. The walls started closing in on her, the confided space and slippery stairs forcing her to slide against the walls to adjust to the available room and keep her balance. It was uncomfortable, the walls wet, the staircase drafty and with far too many short stairs, but the moment she laid her eyes on the turret door a bright smile of victory blossomed on her lips. She gave a tentative push at the door and it opened for her at once. The room itself was a mess: half filled and knocked down fuming flasks everywhere, a dragonhide coat thrown carelessly on a wooden bench and a heavy smell of something spicy, old, something that reminded Belle of her books.

Surprisingly, the inside of the closet Rumplestiltskin instructed her to open was neat, everything ordered and labelled with symbols she couldn't decipher. She found the potion at once, sparkling brightly from the top shelf, just as he said. Steadying her fingers, she secured it firmly in her hand and, careful not to touch anything else, slid out and back down the moldy staircase. Once she'd learned how to place her feet on the steps, her descent went far quicker than the climb. Only upon re-entering the great room she noticed that the far-east corner was occupied by a large spinning wheel, a fresh supply of straw awaiting neatly beside it on the floor. Rumplestiltskin hadn't moved from the position she had left him in, only his hands were now gripping tightly the chair's arms. As he lifted his eyes at her, his expression unreadable, she handled him the potion and he gulped it at once, ravenously.

He looked supremely tempted to speak, but refrained. Instead, a bowl with fresh water, clean cloths and a bottle of alcohol materialized next to his chair, and Belle took it as a wordless invitation, the sign that he had changed his mind about her earlier ministrations. She approached him, timidly, attempting to give him as much space as she could while finishing to unbutton his shirt. He winced when she lifted the silk off his wounded navel with trembling hands, and she touched his shoulder trying to offer him a small comfort. The wound was deep, dark blood pooling around it, and the flesh surrounding it was just as pink as her own. One of her eyebrows raised, involuntarily questioning him, but if Rumplestiltskin saw that, he chose to offer her no explanation. She cleaned the wound as best she could, noticing how the water in the bowl remained mildly warm and crystal clear throughout. She even had to snatch the alcohol bottle from his grasping hands a few times, to prevent him from gulping it all in.

"That's for the wound!" She finally shouted at him, exasperated.

"Let me be, woman! There's plenty of it where this came from," he scoffed at her, but he was less vehement each time, and she thought the only reason he kept reaching for the bottle was that her stubbornness to prevent him from getting plastered amused him. From time to time she would turn her eyes to his face and catch him already staring at her with a wonder that made her insides warm. She would have never imagined seeing that look in the eyes of someone like Rumplestiltskin. But who was Rumplestiltskin, anyway? To everyone, he was a mystery. To her, he was a mystery to uncover. Her heart skipped a beat at the realization.

Well, her mystery was currently a bit drunk and obviously exhausted. As she was finishing taking care of the wound and buttoning back his vest, his heavy eyelids slid closed and Belle discarded the idea of helping him to his chamber. Instead, she brought her cloak from where she had carelessly thrown it and covered him with it, nestling it around his arms and thighs. There was no other chair but his in the great hall, so Belle sank on her legs prompting her back against the fireplace wall, warming up while keeping him in sight, taking in his features with an avidity she didn't allow herself with him conscious. The reality of what she was doing startled her. She was taking in the vision of the so-called monster without feeling any trace of fear whatsoever.

She decided that was a good spot for her. She would both keep warm and be able to watch over him, in case he'd need anything during the night. It was a caretaker's place, she thought, and sighed. She looked down on her, noticing for the first time how tarnished her golden dress was, covered in soot from the fireplace, muddied from pulling Rumplestiltskin on a forest road and spatted with his blood. Rumplestiltskin mildly stirred from time to time, each time his body relaxing more, his skin darkening over the pink spots and the fire going brighter and merrier in the fireplace. _"He's getting better,"_ she thought to herself and a shy smile crossed her face. Maybe she could be someone's knight in golden armour after all.

Eventually, despite her resistance, Belle's eyelids closed as well. The last thing she will later remember thinking about that night was what a terribly lonely thing it was to have only one chair in such a great room. She soon slipped into a profound sleep worth witnessing a murder attempt in the woods, taking a long journey by magic carriage and striking a deal with a magical spinner. But if only that, at least tonight she discovered that Rumplestiltskin did possess a heart, as prompted to get wounded as any other's.


	5. Master

Rumplestiltskin slowly came back to his senses, as an increasingly dull ache permeated his entire body. Unthinkingly, he shifted from his position and a sharp pain triggered in response, travelling from below his left ribs straight to his brains, stopping, for a few moments, all further thought from being formed. Then, as the pain gradually subsided, recollections of past day's events came back to his mind, strangely mingled with memories of soft, delicate fingers touching lightly across his horrid green skin, but those he quickly dismissed as pain playing tricks on his imagination. When he finally managed to open his eyes, and, by Gods, even his eyelids seemed to hurt, the curtains covering the large windows at his left gave him a vague indication of daybreak. As another of his senses awoke, he caught the faintest smell of perfume... _"What was it,"_ he thought to himself, confused, _"roses?"_ He glanced down to find his form covered to the knees in a green-yellow cloak firmly tugged beneath him, save from where his hands apparently clutched furiously at the chair's arms during the night, leaving angry nail marks. And then his gaze fell, completely by accident, on the little corner in the wall formed beside the fireplace, and his eyes widened.

There was Belle, the daughter of Sir Maurice of the Marchlands, saviour of her people and his new caretaker, curled beside the fire, left side leaning into the wall, arms clutching her knees to her chest. It was now Rumplestiltskin's turn to drink in _her_ features. Her dark curls were framing her face, eloping from what was once an elaborate hairstyle, her breathing soft and her toes barefoot. She'd probably removed her matching golden shoes some time during the night... suddenly, Rumplestiltskin realized the feather touches and gentle care hadn't been fruits of his imagination, but real and coming from this woman. And she was still here! She didn't leave, nor claimed his power, she only took off her shoes to get as comfortable as she could. If he wouldn't know himself to be above petty sentiments such as guilt, he'd swear it was what he was currently feeling.

Rumplestiltskin waved his right hand in Belle's direction, and all of a sudden her hair was being pulled up again, moulded in locks carefully held together by delicate golden pins that swirled and twinkled in her hair until finally resting there, making themselves at home, leaving her looking as if she'd just left her chamber in her father's castle and the gentle attentions of her maid. Rumplestiltskin didn't know if the impulse was to test if he'd regain full control of his magic, a kindness to her or simply cause he instantly decided he would very much like to see his gold pieces in her chestnut hair. Either way, his magic made Belle stir. She wrinkled her nose, as if tickled by it, and her toes curled at exactly the same moment. Rumplestiltskin couldn't stifle a giggle at the sight. Belle's eyes snapped opened and she turned to stare at him, the concern in her features subduing slightly in the face of his intense gaze, and she blushed discretely.

"You're awake..." she started, then stopped, cursing herself for her dull choice of words.

"As much as I can tell, dearie," he retorted, smugly. Belle stood up, her legs slightly trembling from the strained position she'd spent the night in, and a new rush of that guilt-resembling feeling shot through Rumplestiltskin. If he wouldn't be the Dark One, he was pretty sure he'd be prone to get a heart attack, with this girl causing him all sorts of sensations he hadn't felt in ages, if ever. Belle approached his chair, quite unsure on how to handle a completely sober, yet equally teasing, Rumplestiltskin. Knotting her hands to her back, she measured him from head to toe:

"How are you feeling?"

"I... ah, much better." Turned out Belle's careful scrutiny wasn't to Rumplestiltskin's liking any more than his was to her, but thankfully he didn't blush in response to it like she had. Although he knew he came dangerously close to. "My magic seems to be well-functioning again. I was afraid it would take longer for it to replenish, after I'd drain it last night to bring us here."

"That's good..." she smiled, kindly... "but you, how are _you _feeling?" He was confused for a moment. That wasn't a question he received often, and so he almost missed its meaning again.

"Just as well dearie, just as well," he patted his unharmed side with his right hand in what he hoped to be reassurance. That wasn't entirely truthful, he knew, but his pain did start to diminish, and anything that was still wrong, he could fix with magic. It was not that he needed her or her delft fingers to once again peel through his shirts and bandages to check his wound. No, he'd had quite enough of that.

"Breakfast and tea, then," Belle declared and, rolling on her heels, headed for the corridor, too quickly for Rumplestiltskin to manage doing anything other than watch her, puzzled. However, as soon as she stepped outside the room on the cold stone tiles, she jumped back inside.

"Let me just... get my..." she hurried to the fireplace and grabbed her shoes, then sprinted for the big doors again. As she was about to exit, she turned her head to him:

"Are you sure you'll be alright?"

"Yes, dearie. I think I'll manage." A small smile lifted the corners of her mouth as she nodded and left. Just when he was about to let out a breath he hadn't realize he'd been holding ever since she'd started running around his supposedly terrifying castle, Belle popped her head through the doors again:

"I'm sorry... your kitchen?" She looked at him askance, biting her lower lip.

"Just follow the humming of the magic teapot. She's quite vocal in the morning." Rumplestiltskin said, calmly, tangling his fingers. Belle looked at him confused. He giggled high in his throat.

"Just a quip, dearie. Second corridor to the right should take you there just as well."

"Oh!" Belle grinned and there she went.

Finally! _"Third time is, after all, a charm,"_ Rumplestiltskin thought, sighing, and maybe now he would get some peace of mind. It was unusual for Rumplestiltskin's thoughts to be invaded by anything beyond his cunning deals and plots, and maybe the occasional recipe for a new potion. There were very few people who truly intrigued him, and none quite as much as the new inhabitant of his mind. He just couldn't believe she didn't weep, didn't scream - unless shouting at him would be considered screaming -, didn't flinch when she touched him. Everybody weeped... everybody flinched...

Since his head was definitely still blurry from the potion his unweeping, brave caretaker fetched for him the night before, Rumplestiltskin decided to focus on the practical things. First was getting himself out of Belle's cloak in which he stood there, stupidly wrapped like a child, the entire time he'd talked to her. He stood up from his chair, mindful of his wound, carefully gathering the cloak and sending it, with a poof of his fingers, to what it will soon become Belle's room. Somehow the thought of settling her in the dungeon didn't appeal to him any longer, so he quickly discarded it. Belle deserved a room. And a proper bed for tonight. She'd won that. Rumplestiltskin then made a quick, magical trip to his own chamber, slipping into clean clothes - another pair of leather breeches, soft silk shirt and matching, unmarred vest, clean boots -, making his way back to the great room. Half an hour and, judging from the sounds coming from his kitchen, several chipped cups later, Belle returned to the room as well, carrying a tray loaded with tea-things, jam, honey and pastries.

He wondered if the disappointed look on her face was caused by seeing him out of his chair and no longer in need of her care, but that couldn't be, because no woman would ever willingly tend to a monster. Maybe she worried about how her spoiled golden gown looked next to his pristine clothes, but that couldn't be either, because Rumplestiltskin thought she could never look more beautiful than in that dress impregnated with his scent and magic. For a first in hundreds of years, he was unsure of what to do or say. And so he did what he knew best, and while Belle calmly arranged the tea-things on the table, he pulled the Dark One mask and let it take over. Trying to regain what sort of dignity he had left, he started ordering her around. If was, after all, the master's duty to provide instructions to his caretaker as on how to tend to his castle. Slowly pacing towards her along the great table, trying to look intimidating, he spoke:

"You will bring me my meals and launder my clothing," a long pace marking each command.

"Yes," Belle nodded, simply, while pouring tea into one cup. "Rumplestiltskin... your kitchen..." she forwarded, tentatively.

"Well some of it is still there, isn't it?" he asked, clearly feigning exasperation, and Belle couldn't help but laugh.

"I'm sorry, I'm a bit clumsy at times. But I will learn my way around," and looked at him hopeful, blue eyes meeting dark yellow. Her laugh was contagious, and she wasn't going to let the Dark One scare her, was she?

"It's just a kitchen," he shrugged. "Hope the rest of my castle won't suffer the same faith, though?"

"No, no, I promise, rest assured," she nodded seriously, confident.

"Good... good..." Rumlestiltskin nodded too, approaching her by one more, less ostentatious, pace.

"Then you will dust my collection, clean the Dark Castle," two more lighter paces and he was standing next to her and picking up the tea cup she'd filled, plunging three sugars in. Belle couldn't help noticing that he'd picked though the cubes gingerly, as if he had expected a mouse trap underneath.

"I will."_ "Who would have imagined Rumplestiltskin had a sweet tooth,"_ Belle thought to herself, watching him take the cup to his lips. They merely touched the hot brew, when he spoke again, eyes locking with hers above the cup's rim:

"You will fetch me fresh straw when I'm spinning at the wheel." As if suddenly registering Belle's proximity, he turned his back to her and started walking to his chair.

"I... I will" she managed, equally bewildered but by the still lingering thought that this is definitely not how people would expect a monster to takes his tea. An awkward silence settled between them, as he seemed at a loss as on what else to demand of her.

"About your collection..." Belle spoke, barely above a whisper.

"Yes?"

"Would you... share some of its stories?" her eyes searched his, blue and clear and hopeful, and he turned right into her gaze.

"You like stories, Belle?" He tilted his head to the right, curiosity evident in his features, not even realizing that he had called her by her name for the first time.

"I do. I like to read. I like... mysteries... Learning as much of the world as I can."

"Well then, I guess I could share a story or two... there are, but just a few, not entirely gruesome," he waved his finger as if telling a cautionary tale, and Belle laughed, beaming at him.

"Those will do. Thank you!"

"No matter."

Fearing the awkward silence would install once again, Rumplestiltskin straightened up and spoke:

"I shall escort you to your room. I'm sure there are... private matters... you need attend to."

"Thank you," Belle curtsied, but before she was properly back up on her two feet, they were facing a tall wooden door that opened at a wave of Rumplestiltskin's hand. He held it opened for her, invitingly, and just as the shock from their magical translation wore off, a tiny wave of fear rose in Belle's chest, as she was staring into the awaiting darkness. But as soon as she set a trembling foot inside, several candles lit up, just like the ones in the great hall and room did. She spun on her heels to take the room in. It was moderately large, painted cream with light blue and golden tapestries adorning it, few pieces of furniture and a delicate, rose-carved mahogany bed in the middle. There was a tiny adjacent chamber hosting the bath and, once again, thick curtains everywhere.

"I hope the room suits your liking. You will join me for dinner," he almost barked, then caught himself and mock-curtsied before nearly slamming the door in her face. Belle barely had time to get either scared, outraged, or to bid him goodbye. After a long moment staring dumbly at the door, she smiled, as the meaning behind his words registered. He would give her all afternoon to tend to herself. Such a strange man he was...

Belle went to the thick drapes, moving one aside with her right hand to reveal square panelled windows and, beyond them, the sight of the Dark One's vast lands. Her room seemed to be on the first floor, and Belle knew at once that it would probably be the brightest room in the castle, if not for the curtains. She would have to do something about them. It looked as if it has been snowing throughout the night, but now the sun was bright and the sky cloudless, and Belle was relieved and grateful for the knowledge that the Dark One's lands were just as her own, and with no hint of darkness about them.

Belle found the room indeed to her liking. Cosy and intimate, rather than large and extravagant. The long bath she'd taken had been very much to her liking as well, and she needn't have worried about getting back into her ragged dress, because a new dress was awaiting her on the bed when she emerged from the bath chamber, blue bodice and white silk and, as Belle put her on, perfectly fitting her form. Fit for a caretaker, but not demeaning for a princess either. Rumplestiltskin had chosen well. Belle smiled when she discovered a new pair of shoes matching the dress and as comfortable as walking on air she imagined would be. Turning around, she realized there was no mirror in either rooms. But a mirror was hardly something Belle couldn't get by without. It would be petty at best to ask Rumplestiltskin for one. She was grateful to him for everything she had that he had given her freely, without being forced to by their contract, and so she would not anger him with wishing for more. Belle sat on the edge of her bed, afraid that if she'd lie down properly, she would fall asleep. With a smile, she revelled in the feeling that she was finally allowed time with herself, time to her thoughts, nothing rushing her and, as she realized breathlessly, nothing to make her fearful. If he would've wanted her harmed, Rumplestiltskin would have harmed her by now. Rumplestiltskin... he was both everything people's stories said about him, words spoken in low whispers and unspoken by frightened glances, and nothing like them at all. If there was one thing Belle was certain of, it was that she did not fear him.

When the darkness started lowering outside, and she felt more at peace with herself than she'd been in months, Belle came out of her new room, dressed in her new dress and wearing her new shoes, and started going down the stairs, determined to ask Rumplestiltskin why there were golden pins in her hair that weren't there before.


	6. Companion

Delicate footsteps carried Belle down the stairs and across three brightly lit corridors until she exhaled in relief at the sight of familiar surroundings. On her way to the kitchen, she tentatively peeked into the great room and was surprised to notice that dinner was already laid out on the table, with more lighted candles than there had been the night before and a blazing fire hosted in the fireplace. Even more surprisingly was the fact that it was a dinner set for two. Belle pushed the large doors slightly, fidgeting through the small space available, and entered the room to approach the table for a thorough inspection. A generous bowl of hot soup was steaming in the centre, surrounded by various dishes, main courses and desserts, some of which Belle has never laid eyes on or tasted before. She studied each of them, looking for a hint to let her know if they were local dishes from Rumplestiltskin's land or recipes he'd collected during his travels, while savouring the delightful, mingling aromas. Belle's nostrils tingled in excitement and her mouth watered, her body's way of reminding her that the only food she had the past two days had been a cup of tea.

"Is everything to your liking, dearie?" A giggle coming from the eastern corner of the room startled Belle out of her skin. Caught up in her careful scrutiny, she hadn't noticed Rumplestiltskin was also in the room, seated at the spinning wheel. His eyes were studying her, a slightly amused expression on his face.

"Oh... I... I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pry. I'll retire to the kitchen while you attend your guest," Belle ascertained and made a move to turn her back to him and reach for the doors.

"But how would I attend my guest with her all the way in the kitchen?" he asked while standing up, a hand to his chin, his eyebrows burrowed in mock bemusement. "Well, I certainly could," he reasoned, "but why complicate matters?" He giggled loudly, happy to reconfirm to himself that there was indeed nothing he could not get done. Belle continued to stare dumbly at him, and so he felt compelled to press further:

"Have I not invited you to dinner?" he asked, matter of factly, but the beginning of a smile was slowly taking hold of the right corner of his mouth.

"I thought you wanted me to... _make _dinner," Belle said, reasonably, gesturing with her hands towards the feast on display.

"Oh, that I want," he clapped his own hands together like an over excited child. "And breakfast, lunch, and maybe sometimes brunch or a midnight treat?" He looked at her both mischievous and hopeful, and Belle had no idea if it was another one of his quips or not, but she knew for a fact she absolutely had to laugh. "But tonight, allow me," he continued, and his tone was suddenly serious as he came near Belle to hold out her chair. Once she was seated, he strolled to the other end of the table and gracefully sat down himself. That was when Belle's mind registered that there were now two chairs occupying the room.

"Thank you," she offered. When his eyes were on hers, she added: "For the pins. They're lovely." Rumplestiltskin made a dismissive gesture with his hand and nodded, slightly flustered.

Most of the evening was spent in soothing silence. Curiosity in her nature, Belle nibbled from almost each dish on display while throwing quick glares to the treasures adorning the wall cases closest to her, and Rumplestiltskin followed each of her moves attentively. She, in turn, studied him. His clothing was different tonight - more comfortable, she thought -, a shirt and vest replacing his high-collared dragonhide coat. They were both so focussed on examining the other, as if this was the first time they were actually seeing each other, a sight that neither of them had quite seen before. In doing so, they tilted their heads involuntarily, Rumplestiltskin to the left and Belle to the right, and if there had been a third soul in that room, he would've been quite amused at the sight of them two. After long minutes, Rumplestiltskin was the one to break the silence. He coughed, clearing his throat, and asked, narrowing his eyes:

"Why did you come here?"

Surprised by his question, Belle took a moment to collect her thoughts. She knew her reasons very well, but she had yet to discover how much of them she would be comfortable confiding to Rumplestiltskin. She certainly didn't expect to blurt it all out to him:

"I'd always wished there were more opportunities for women in my land to show what they can do. To be heroes. This was mine. So I thought to do the brave thing and hope that bravery will follow."

"This can't be everything you've wished for," he pressed, bitterly, his hands animatedly pointing at their surroundings.

"I got to save my people and decide my own faith. It was a fair deal. I don't regret it," she said, her voice clear and bright. That seemed to impact him. Everybody must regret striking deals with Rumplestiltskin, Belle thought.

"And what about your... betrothed?" He was trying to mortify her, Belle could tell, and she shook her head, smiling.

"An opinionated young woman meddling in the kingdom's affairs and stuffing her nose in books all day is a difficult woman to love. But then again, I couldn't have ever loved someone as superficial as Gaston, either."

Rumplestiltskin seemed befuddled by her outburst of sincerity, so Belle decided to say no more. In his turn, he decided to wipe off the entire arsenal on the table with a motion of his hand, leaving Belle gasping and wondering if he would be willing to share that very useful trick with his newest caretaker. Taking his actions as a sign to not take further advantage of his kindness, Belle stood up:

"Do you mind if I retire?"

"As the lady wishes." Rumplestiltskin stood sharply himself, taking a small bow. There was a brief, awkward moment, with both of them desiring to speak but neither of them finding the proper wording.

"Good night, Sir," Belle sighed, resigned, and curtsied.

"Good night, Milady."

As she was about to set foot out of the room, Rumpelstiltskin's shaking voice stopped her:

"Thank you." Belle lifted her eyes to meet his, askance. "For your care... the other night," he forwarded.

"It's no matter," she returned his words to him, smiling kindly.

While on the way to her chamber for the night, Belle spontaneously decided to take a little detour. She stopped by the kitchen, arranging back into place whatever she'd unsettled on her previous visit. Some of the pottery laid victim to her clumsy hands, and one small cloth had been irreparably burned when she'd lifted the heavy kettle from the stove to prepare the tea. This damage aside, everything else seemed in order, and Belle made a mental note of what she would use to prepare Rumpelstiltskin's breakfast in the morning. She then took a different route to reach the first floor, this time passing through the left-wing of the castle. The corridors there seemed darker than the rest and, for some reason, left Belle quite unsettled, so she unconsciously hurried her paces. She exhaled a deep breath she didn't realize she'd been holding at the sight of her room, its merry lights and welcoming warmth feeling almost familiar. As she moved past the closet, its large wooden door creaked open slightly, and Belle turned to inspect its contents. She discovered her cloak, as well as more dresses awaiting for her on coat hangers, and several nightgowns neatly folded in one of the drawers. She picked up the one that seemed the warmest, a light blue gown with tiny poppies embroidered on it, and, slipping into it as fast as she could in front of the fireplace, extinguished all candles but one, pulled off the bed-clothes and rushed between the sheets.

* * *

Belle was surprised at how relieved she felt on hearing the rhythmic sounds of Rumplestiltskin's spinning wheel coming from the great room. She entered it gracefully, bare feet stepping cautiously on cold tiles. It was Rumplestiltskin's time to get startled when he registered her presence, clearly not expecting to see her again that night.

"You couldn't sleep either?" she offered, understanding in her eyes.

"I barely sleep, dear."

"I see."

Rumplestiltskin watched her supremely confused as she moved freely around the room and huffed attempting to drag his heavy chair from the table nearer to the fireplace. He rose to come to her aid, but Belle was faster in cutting him short:

"No, no, you sit right there, you're still injured. I'll manage." A few more huffs later, she added teasingly: "Besides, looks like you have a propensity for inflicting wounds on yourself when I'm around." Rumplestiltskin burst into genuine laughter:

"Dislodging a chair isn't going to kill me, dearie," he countered, but humoured her and sit back at the wheel.

"Well, it isn't going to kill me, either," she grinned at him and a few moments later a victorious smile spread across her face as the large chair was once again facing the fireplace, and Belle quickly curled into it. Seeing that look on her face was breathtaking, and it made Rumplestiltskin glad he didn't use his magic to conjure the sodding chair to where she desired it.

Belle found her new accommodations surprisingly comfortable, with the warmth of the fire radiating pleasantly around her. As soon as she settled in, a cloud of purple smoke rose out of nowhere, surrounding her, and Belle yelped as she found herself being wrapped in a soft blanket, just as tight as she had wrapped her cloak around Rumplestiltskin's shaking body the night before. It took her three blinks to shake away her amazement and to register that a new heaviness was also pressing onto her thighs. Her eyes widened when she lowered them and saw a book resting there. And not any book, but the very same she'd been holding in her hands the moment Rumplestiltskin had made his appearance in her father's council chamber. Caught between laughter and weeping, Belle was at a loss for words, her fingers coming late in touching the book, gently caressing the familiar leather binding, almost afraid that it would vanish under her touch. Without her being able to suppress them, tears welled up in Belle's eyes and rolled onto her cheeks. If they were tears of homesickness or gratitude to the small gesture, she did not know. She turned her head to peek back from the chair at the spinning wheel, hoping that her gaze would be enough to let Rumplestiltskin know of her gratefulness, but he didn't meet her eyes. He was spinning at the slowest pace, his movements hypnotising, the fine wool simmering into gold where he touched it.

"Why did you come here, Belle?" he spoke after a while, still averting his gaze. His voice sounded as hoarse and haunted as her own would have been a few moments ago, had she been able to muster the thankful words.

"I told you that already," Belle whispered, shaking her head.

"I mean, why not sit by the fire in your room?" He sounded genuinely puzzled and it seemed to cost him dearly to speak the words.

"I... I didn't want to be alone," Belle confessed, shyly.

"So you opted for my company?" he spat, incredulity, bitterness and, Belle thought, a linger of hope mingling in his voice.

"I will go if my presence displeases you..."

"It does not."

"Well, yours doesn't displease me either," Belle added, gently, a small smile returning to her lips.

She could understand Rumplestiltskin thinking of himself as poor company. Understand, she could, but share his opinion, she would not. She would not judge and despise him for the evil that everyone said he held within, not until he would give her proof of that devilish nature. She has received no such a thing, so far. He saved her people and land, and, although her position has suffered greatly, she could not blame him for seeking out a companion to bring back to his lonesome castle. For Belle was sure by now that Rumplestiltskin was in far more need of another soul to keep him company than of a caretaker who would accomplish poorly tasks that he could easily get done by magic. And if she were to be his companion, then he would be hers. Belle shifted in her seat, curling into a little ball, and opened her book. She knew she wouldn't manage to read more than a few lines, as she welcomed the unexpected feelings of peace and contentment that were relaxing her body and mind, lulling her to sleep. She thought she heard Rumpelstiltskin speak, but it might as well had been a dream, his voice as low and deep as she'd ever heard it:

"Good night, Belle."

She was too lost into sleep to be able to recall, in the morning, how he carried her into his arms to her room that night.

After Belle fell asleep, Rumplestiltskin spent another hour spinning, using his magic to bring the soothing sounds of Belle's even breathing to his ears, synchronizing his motions at the wheel to the shallow noises she was making. It was a blissful hour, as he felt her calm embracing him as well, for he was no longer troubled by his frightening past, his ongoing deals or the prospect of horrifying things to come. For a brief instance in time, all was forgotten but the two of them, secluded in their own little world, a flicker of light amidst an ocean of darkness. But time did flow, and Rumplestiltskin soon realized that Belle must be uncomfortable constricted into his chair, so he abandoned his spinning and moved to crouch at her feet. He found himself staring at her for long moments, all peaceful and perfect, a vision of what he never was and was never going to be. He contemplated sending her back to her bed by a whim of his magic, but immediately discarded the thought as images from the other night, her tiny frame supporting his shoulders and carrying his semi-unconscious weight through the forest, came back to his mind. No, the least he could do was to carry her properly to her room. He whisked the book and blanket away, bent over and, as carefully as he could, cradled her petite figure in his arms. He winced as his wound throbbed below his ribs, but all pain was forgotten when he heard Belle sigh against his chest.

As he started climbing the stairs, Rumplestiltskin held Belle closer, worried that he might miss a step and cause them both to fall - it wasn't as if he was used to carrying maidens in his arms up and down the Dark Castle. Belle returned his gentle pressure and clung to his body in her sleep, wrapping her arms around his neck, and Rumpelstiltskin froze, trying his best not to think too hard on how her warmth felt against him, how very precious her mere touch felt. A thing that most men took for granted, yet that Rumplestiltskin has not felt since he'd been a flawless human, a long time before he'd become a lame coward and, afterwards, a soulless sorcerer. Nobody but his son desired to embrace the spinner, and so he never allowed himself to hope that someone else would ever do it again. And the Dark One... the Dark One didn't embrace. The Dark One killed. The Dark One took. Never in his years as an almighty magician had Rumplestiltskin felt more exposed, more mortal than in that very moment, with Belle in his arms. It was unexpected, terrifying, overwhelming and not enough, more than he had felt in decades and supremely better than any of his malevolent glees. It was kind, tender and right...

Steering himself from his revelry, Rumplestiltskin opened the door to Belle's room with a twist of his fingers. He stepped in and cautiously laid her on the bed, warm sheets coming to cover her frame, the book magically deposited on her night stand, a pressed poppy flower marking the page. After making sure the fire would burn bright all night, Rumplestiltskin risked another glance towards Belle. What magic did this girl possess, to disturb him so? His shoulders sank and he retired awkwardly from the room. If he was on his way to spin some more, to smile at his newest revelations or to sulk on whatever memories they brought back, he had yet to find out.


	7. Friend

Belle awoke to the sun up in the sky, warming every nook and cranny of her room. Drowsy with sleep, she wrinkled her nose at the too bright light and pulled the blankets over her head, lazily breathing in the scent of fresh sheets and... what was that? Was it... tobacco? And... strong spirits? Belle's eyes snapped open and she was instantly fully awake. She pushed off the blankets and scrambled from the bed as recollections of the past night came rushing through her mind. She'd fallen asleep feeling unexpectedly content, surrounded by the pleasant warmth of the fire in the great room and lulled by the rhythmic sounds of Rumplestiltskin's spinning wheel. He must have used his magic to send her back to her chambers... as he did her book, which she noticed was carefully deposited on her night stand.

Displeasing Rumplestiltskin by oversleeping after his small generous acts would simply not do, so Belle, after taking a quick, unavoidable trip to her bath chamber, put on her new dress and shoes and combed her hair with hurried strokes, tying back two locks with one of the gold pins. In a matter of minutes, she found herself ready to start her first proper day as caretaker of the rather large Dark Castle. The tall wooden doors creaked as she opened them, and she peered out into the hallway, half sure that an antagonized Rumplestiltskin would be waiting to reprimand her for being late on attending to her duties. Instead, what impacted her was the barely audible creak of the doors, now amplified and reverberating through the empty corridors of the castle. Belle quickly realized that, more than the prospect of Rumpelstiltskin scolding her, she feared the silence and solitude that life in his castle would bring upon her. She already missed the bright mornings back in her father's castle, the company of hurried maids and valets, restless children, straight-faced soldiers and grouching council members bursting about from one room to the other. The thought of living in a castle all alone, for years, gave her pause and made chills travel down her spine. She wondered whether Rumplestiltskin brought her here in a weary attempt to animate his castle or, on the contrary, she was supposed to pass as unnoticed as possible and allow him to bask in his isolation. Considering that he had not shunned her the night before when she had sought out his company, Belle could only hope it was the former. Rumplestiltskin's was the only company she would get for the remainder of her life, and she was decided to make the most of it.

Finding her way to the kitchen easily enough, Belle made work on putting the kettle on and taking out bread, jam and honey to place on a tray. With the water set to boil, she made a quick visit to the great room, only to be met on her way by even more unbearable silence. And darkness. Too much darkness. Belle made a mental note to do something about those excessively thick drapes. As Rumplestiltskin was nowhere to be seen, she was about to turn around when a glitter of light coming from the great table caught her eye. Coming closer to study it, Belle discovered it was one of the teacups that survived barely unscathed her attempt at preparing tea the other day, and it was now pinning a letter to the table. Although the letter was unfolded and clearly set there for her to read, Belle was undecided as on whether she should pick it up or not, afraid she might unleash a terrible curse by doing so. Scolding herself, for how was she to be the caretaker if she was afraid of moving items around, Belle bent over to peek at the written words, striking quite an awkward pose in the process.

_"Milady,  
__Please aim for minimal damage in attending to my castle while I am away. Do not attempt to leave the estate, for there will be consequences. I shall return in the evening. I would very much like if there will still be a castle and caretaker to return to.  
__R"_

_"Who knew Rumplestiltskin even quips in writing,"_ Belle thought to herself, shaking her head and smiling. She had to admit that she was touched by the address, as well as by the fact that Rumplestiltskin chose to leave her the letter in a space of his own instead of the kitchen, giving it slightly more meaning than a simple instructions letter for a caretaker was supposed to have. Upon returning to the kitchen, Belle tried not to let her disappointment at being left on her own settle in. No, she could not expect Rumplestiltskin to be present at all times, nor for him to have his meals with her. Their dinner together the previous evening had been an exception. But Belle would have liked to see him again this morning, even if briefly...

As soon as she drank her cup of tea and nibbled on a buttered slice of bread generously topped with jam, Belle could contain her curiosity no longer. After quickly replacing each item to its proper place and making sure the fire would burn bright for a few hours, she stormed out of the kitchen in a quest to unravel as much of the Dark Castle as she could before Rumplestiltskin returned. As she peeked into various rooms on her way, she allowed herself to bask in the feeling of being the only explorer permitted to venture into Rumplestiltskin's peculiar world. Learning her way around the ground floor had been easy enough, and in a matter of hours all dust in the great room and hall has been banished. Belle surprised herself by feeling immensely proud of her accomplishment.

After preparing a quick supper and leaving Rumplestiltskin's plate on the stove to keep warm, Belle only had one more thing to do: bring a fresh stack of straw to the wheel. Frowning, as she realized she was unaware of the location of the straw, she moved instinctively towards the front doors of the castle and startled when she found herself facing them. With trembling hands, Belle forced herself to be brave and open them. Surely Rumplestiltskin would not punish her for simply venturing into the gardens to fetch him his straw? Although the large doors opened for her at once, Belle winced, afraid that she'd unleashed Rumplestiltskin's wrath, but nothing happened. She couldn't stifle a gasp at the sight that was now displayed in front of her. The other night, scared out of her skin as she was and fighting to keep her balance under Rumplestiltskin's weight, she wouldn't have noticed if the entire entryway had been paved in gold. But today, sun shining, breeze inviting, the sight of the castle's exterior was quite luring. Right to the front laid a grand rose garden, which was, surprisingly, in very good shape, roses trimmed and blossomed in colours ranging from silver white to dark indigo. Beyond it were the gates of the estate and, for a moment, as Belle's eyes rested upon them, the homesick part of her didn't consult with the brave part as she felt a painful urge to just run back home as fast as she could. Shaking her head, Belle forced her eyes away from the gates. No. Her word was binding and this was her home now. And really, she thought, gently scolding herself, what was so monstrous here?

A small, neat pile of straw laid just at her left, by the fence of the rose garden, and Belle moved quickly to collect it, grateful there was no need to test how far outside she was permitted to go. Returning back to the castle, she slowly closed the large doors, wincing slightly at the weight, and turned around to head back to the great room. Suddenly, Rumplestiltskin was in front of her.

"Oh," she took a step back, colliding to the door, heart beating frantically in her chest. For a moment, fear rushed through her at the thought she had displeased him by venturing outside. But angriness was nowhere on his face. Confusion, yes, and something close to relief, but not anger.

"You're running the wrong way, dearie" he stated, voice low.

"What? No... I... I wasn't trying to escape," Belle shook her head nervously. Thought about it, yes, but she hadn't quite made it to "trying". Rumplestiltskin quickly composed his features, for there was now only an all-knowing smile on his face.

"Only those with a heavy conscience get so scared," he sang along and waved a finger in her face, the imp back in his features.

"Nonsense, even a cat would flee from a bowl of milk if you would pop like that in front of it!" Belle counteracted, and why she was shifting forward to be a few inches closer to his face as she spoke, she had no idea.

"You're no cat," he retorted, thoughtful, as if actually considering her counter argument.

"Well, neither was I running," she stated firmly.

Rumplestiltskin's eyes bored into hers for long, strange moments before he finally moved aside, extending his right hand towards the great hall and bowing slightly.

"Milady, I believe you were on a quest."

"That I was," Belle smiled sheepishly and moved quickly, giving a small curtsey herself, glad to have escaped his unsettling scrutiny. Before fleeting into the shadows, she turned her head and whispered:

"Welcome back."

_"Welcome back?"_ Rumplestiltskin mumbled to himself, puzzled. No one has welcomed him back to his castle since... well, ever. Releasing a breath he didn't realize he's been holding, he eased his weight by leaning into the door, the spot the very same that he had Belle pinned to just moments before.

That morning, he fled his home like the coward that he once was. Yes, some desperate soul did call out to him for a deal, but his was such a poor gain that he wouldn't have given it a second thought on an ordinary day. But then again, this was no ordinary day. No day has been ordinary since he had acquired his new caretaker. And so he went away, as far away as possible from the new inhabitant of his castle and the epiphanies her presence caused. Sitting in the poorly lit bar, drowning half a pint of a suspicious alcoholic brew and cursing himself for going through with the deal, a sharp chill ran through him. _"What has he been thinking?"_ Was he a complete and utter fool, leaving Belle alone so soon, to either flee and get hurt by his magic protecting the castle, or burn the whole thing down and herself with it, clumsy as she was? With a twist of his wrist, he was instantly transported back to the great hall. Good, at least the castle was still standing. Ah, but the doors were swung wide open, so she... no, Belle was still there, walking back inside carrying a tiny bundle of straw. And she actually welcomed him home. Him, the monster everyone fled from, that no one wanted to come across... except her.

Up to this day, he could tell he still had a heart just by the knowledge that Regina didn't have his trapped in her precious vault. So he was certain his was still beating in his chest, though it was a bleeding, barely living, frail, darkened and broken little thing, twisted and useless. And yet, at hearing Belle say those words, he felt an invisible band closed about his heart snap open.

Rumplestiltskin strolled with slightly insecure steps along the great hall. It seemed that he came back to a significantly brighter castle. His trophies in the great room occupied the same places they always had, but they were shining and... smelling faintly of perfume? Rumplestiltskin shook his head in disbelief. Curiosity got the best of him and he went to peek into the kitchen as well, but Belle was nowhere to be seen. Ah, she probably needed to compose herself, after he had scared her with his impromptu comeback. That was what several lifetimes spent around humans have taught him: whenever he came in, people backed away.

Something that looked surprisingly like his dinner was neatly awaiting on the warm stove, and why was he surprised? That was what caretakers did, after all: fetch dinner. Thing is, he never expected his to do just that without a little... persuasion. She was supposed to beg and deal and then maybe, just maybe, she would keep him reluctant company. He didn't expected her to actually... care. Unable to stop himself now - and really, why should he, he was in his own bloody castle, he could do anything he damn well pleased - he lifted the lid and warm aromas tingled his nostrils pleasantly. So, the little princess can cook after all...

"Oh, there you are," and it was Rumplestiltskin's time to jump out of his skin, the sight of Belle smiling at him from the door frame something he was not and will probably never be prepared for. Since Bae, no one has had such a truthful smile for him. His heart widened and clenched at the same time, and he cursed it for it. He was still staring at Belle when he finally registered that she was looking at the floor, a distressed look on her face. He followed her gaze only to notice that he had accidentally sent a teapot flying to the floor. It was still in one piece, well, two pieces, its cap now displaying a small crack.

"I'm sorry! I didn't mean to startle you!"

"Startle me? Nonsense, dearie. No one can ever, ever startle me. Imagine, the Dark One scared by his little caretaker!" He muffled a vaguely hysterical giggle.

Belle's eyebrow moved up in defiance before she could control it, but thankfully her mouth didn't form the words that were circling her mind.

"You will need fresh supplies of pottery while I'm in your service," she said instead, sighing as she moved to wipe the water off the floor and salvage the flying teapot.

"But that's a perfectly functioning, customized teapot, dearie. I will treasure it always," he said wryly. He didn't know which of them was more surprised when Belle burst into laughter.

"You seem to be in high spirits," Rumplestiltskin said, puzzled. "Nobody is ever in high spirits around me."

"Well, then maybe you need to find yourself some new friends?" Belle lifted her eyes to meet his, smiling. She didn't expect the pure surprise that lighted his face to make him look so very human.

"Right... I'll serve your dinner in the great room then," she quickly added, disconcerted.

"Why bother," he replied in such a defeated tone that Belle could not believe it spoken by the lips of the Dark One.

Discarding his dragonhide coat, Rumplestiltskin grabbed the warm plate and placed it on the table, sliding into the nearest chair and starting to take careful bites. Belle's eyes widened as she watched him. When he wasn't trying to keep the trickster appearance, he looked so very human to her. Like now, in the kitchen, eating her foot. She didn't know what to do, and so she did nothing but stand and avoid staring as much as possible.

"What _are_ you doing," he asked, lifting his eyes from the plate.

"Nothing..."

"Precisely. Have a sit, for gods sake!"

There were two more chairs at the kitchen table, and Belle had absolutely no idea why she picked to sit on the one closest to him. Rumplestiltskin seemed to have noticed that, and he drew back instinctively. For a moment, he had the appearance of a haunted animal, and Belle was seriously afraid he would abandon his food and lunge out the door. But after just a moment, he relaxed again and proceeded to take another bite. She half expected him to prod suspiciously at her food, like he did when she had served him tea for the first time, but he didn't. Neither did he seem to chew reluctantly. Belle couldn't help feel it as a small victory.

It was long after he finished his dinner that Rumplestiltskin was still seated in his chair, and Belle had to pretend not to notice how he pretended not to look at her. She lost track of the minutes they spent there, but there was a candle in the centre of the table now, casting flickering images into the room. She felt as if the sun setting down outside was coming out in that very room, washing out the darkness and fear and leaving nothing but warmth and acceptance in place. Not another word had been spoken between them, but the silence seemed to be what both of them needed. Two people adjusting to the unexpected, yet not unwelcome, presence of the other, trying to see themselves for who they really are.

He thought her brave for coming with him in the first place, and foolish for being there still, and he had to admit to himself that he was both relieved and grateful for her choices. He also thought her beautiful and kind, and practically everything else that he was not. He wondered if her own life so far has been lonely in a way, for her to prefer his company to the alternative. He was also quite impressed that he was never bothered by her questions or comments, and quite shocked to realize that he actually desired to know what she was thinking. Out of all the humans he had met, this little thing, barely a woman, was the only one who would speak her mind to him.

She intended to ask him about today's travels, but now she just didn't have the heart to break the companionable silence. So the words at the tip of her tongue became thoughts instead. She thought him strange, intriguing, layered. And she knew that most people are more than they appear to be, not less, even if the others often fail to see that. She would look carefully at Rumplestiltskin, she would try and she would discover the true nature of this man, because he certainly wasn't the monster stories claimed him to be. Monsters were neither smart or witty, and when he forgot to play the imp, she could see in his eyes a soul left to reclaim, a kindness buried deep. She seemed to be more captivated by him than captured, for he was the mystery that she had always wanted to uncover. It was just that she had found it in the person and manner least expected, but doesn't life work that way? It's unpredictable and sometimes, just sometimes, the most important things happen in the small moments, such as this one, in between the grand events.

The sound of a chair being pulled slowly on the stone floor awoke Belle from her revelry.

"Good meal... good meal," Rumplestiltskin said in a small, weary voice. He looked as lost as she felt, and he quickly retired from the kitchen. Relief flooded through Belle. She will be safe here. She will be safe with him. Monsters don't compliment their caretakers on their cooking.

It wasn't rational, but feelings never are. And what Belle felt was that, after tonight, they were more than master and caretaker, but less than the near friends they could be. The friends that she desired them to be, for the sake of both their futures. With this thought alone and nothing else in her mind, Belle quickly stood up and rushed after him. He was already at the other end of the dark corridor, and how did he get so far when he just left the kitchen a moment ago?

"Rum... Rumplestiltskin!" Belle almost shouted, hurrying to get close to him, the sound of her skirts rustling in the enclosed space. She stopped just a few paces behind him:

"About what I said earlier... I know it's slightly inappropriate, but... I could be your friend, one day. If you'd like that."

The silence that followed seemed to last for ages, and Belle almost lost hope that he would acknowledge her words. Her heart clenched, fearing that she had made a terrible mistake.

"Maybe we could arrange that," she heard him whisper just as he disappeared from before her eyes, and had she not been straining her ears, she wouldn't have caught it.

Only when the door to his turret was locked up with himself safely inside did Rumplestitlskin allow a small, sheepish smile to twist the corners of his mouth. Approaching the long workbench, he checked upon a couple of bubbling potions, stirring one with a glass rod while adding one extra gold thread. He then let himself collapse into one of the chairs and proceeded to await developments.


	8. Confidant

**And this is where it all goes AU…**

**Thank you all so much for your comments, favourites and follows! They are very much appreciated, twuly! **

**A special thank you and a gigantic hug to the lovely person that said my story reminded them of a Gothic novel****. Your comment is my flicker of light! :)**

* * *

Major developments did not occur for a while. However, with each passing day, Rumplestiltskin was growing more and more puzzled and pulled into the peculiar universe that was Belle. Soon, his spells and potions came second place, his little caretaker occupying most of his thoughts.

He told everyone that each of his deals came with a price, and now it was his turn to feel it quite as fierce as everybody else did. The price of having Belle as his caretaker was that she was there at every turn, and he had to bear with her smiling at him and seeming pleased to see him. The price of having someone to talk to was that Belle's words found their way between his roughened scales, parting and warming underneath.

Belle had never been one to tremble or cower in his presence, but ever since that strange evening in the dim light of the kitchen stove, when words of friendship had been spoken, she seemed determined to invade his personal space with every change she got. He could _feel _her attempts at tearing down his carefully constructed barriers, his dark armour hundreds of years in the making. Rumplestiltskin was petrified of what she would find underneath, were she to succeed, and of how horrified it would make her. He was uncertain of what laid beneath, after disguising himself in so many foreign skins, but he assumed the old, lame coward was still lurking, lost in the darkness that, after centuries, had no doubt taken root deep into what was left of his desperate soul.

He wouldn't have imagined such small creature would bring about so much life into the castle. He hadn't expected her to blossom into an agreeable companion and he would go so far as to say devoted caretaker. His childish plan was to study her, figure out her weaknesses, then mortify her until she either ran back home or he could tie her up with invisible gold wires, force her to dance to his tune. But Belle had no intention to run off, and she certainly couldn't be tamed. And, well, he wasn't doing a very good job at figuring her out either. Belle was… Belle. Brave, bright and beautiful, enthusiastic, smiling and offering friendship.

Rumplestiltskin was not blind to what she was changing around him, yet he kept denying obstinately whatever changes she was causing inside of him. No, he couldn't let himself fooled by the sharp arrows of warmth that he sometimes felt travelling through his chest when a smile formed on Belle's lips for him, or when her fingers would brush his while serving his meal. He knew better. Arrows and warmth were passing things, mere illusions, while the broken heart that they travelled through was bound to forever be dark and hopeless…

* * *

On her fourth day in Rumplestiltskin's castle, Belle returned his dragonhide coat from where he had left it abandoned in the kitchen the other night. It was in pristine condition, and she had inquired on the whereabouts of his room, so she could deposit it and see to the rest of his clothes in need of cleaning.

"What?" Rumpelstiltskin shrieked and all but shrunk as Belle smiled at him. It served him no good to growl something about his chambers being off limits, and how he would see to it that his clothes reached her, for a couple of days later he found Belle in his room, broom in hand, mumbling something about chasing a spider that had slid under his door and taken refuge inside. Rumplestiltskin didn't have the heart to tell his brand new caretaker that spiders were practically his pets, instead settling for gaping at her and letting her be.

It would have been futile to go ahead with his attempt to keep her out of his chambers, when she had but moved her residence to the great room. Belle would sweep there so often that Rumplestiltskin was fairly sure no particle of dust would dare lay there again for years to come, out of fear of her almighty feather duster. She often hummed a tune while cleaning, and Rumplestiltskin caught himself, more than once, with his eyes closed, basking in the sound of her voice. Belle's singing seemed more efficient than his magic in erasing unpleasant memories of countless years spent in that very room, with only the soft creaks of his spinning wheel for company.

At nightfall, his little caretaker would join him while he spun and curl in front of the fire to read. She always used the poppy that he had placed in her book that first night to mark her page. When he had seen that she'd taken a fondness in it, he had magicked it to never wither or tear apart… but she needn't know that. She need not know that he looked forward to those shared hours, for the darkness in the room made it easier for him to steal glances at her. With the sole purpose of studying her, of course.

On the worst of nights, curiosity would get the best of her and she would be bold enough to circle him while he spun in order to perform a little study of her own. Belle's scrutiny always left Rumplestiltskin uneasy, sometimes even trembling, for he could not envision her taking a genuine interest in something that concerned him. No, she had to be looking for ways to sabotage him…

Often, his trail of thought would be interrupted by Belle's crystal clear voice resounding through the room:

"Why do you spin so much?"

"Would you rather I leave the great room to yourself, dear? Spend my evenings concocting potions in my turret? Leave my little caretaker all alone with trinkets and puppets that might come alive at any moment?" He waved a finger in her direction. Belle thought the sight of him was quite amusing.

"Your puppets never move," she pondered, frowning. "I'm not ungrateful…" she eyed him all-knowingly... "for your company…", then circled the wheel once more for good measure. "It's just that… you've spun straw into more gold than you could ever spend."

"I like to watch the wheel," Rumplestiltskin sighed, somewhat deflated that he hadn't managed to scare her off. "It helps me forget."

"Forget what?"

"Forget how troublesome my little maid is," he giggled.

Belle let out a noise halfway between a choke and a laugh, and moved back towards the fireplace to regain claim of her chair.

"I'll get used to it."

"Get used to what, dearie?" Rumplestiltskin frowned and turned to look at her.

"Having to work harder to get an honest answer from you," Belle grinned back at him, wiggling in her armchair. Her hair was ruffled and her nose wrinkled, and Rumplestiltskin's chest constricted painfully at the sight.

"_So at ease, so familiar, so long forgotten..."_ he thought to himself. So easy to get used to.

Rumplestiltskin was unsure whether he'd won this round or not. "_Persistent, brazen little thing…_," he mumbled to himself. "_Worst thing about it is that I seem to be unreasonably fond of her precisely for acting this way."_ He sighed in dismay, resuming the spinning of his wheel.

* * *

On his eighth day with Belle as caretaker, Rumplestiltskin ascertained that she attempted to poison him. She had cooked the most peculiar dish, something… aquatic, which dangerously resembled squid - and oh, how he dreaded squid -, and… from where on earth did she get it?

"Try this one," Belle not-ordered, depositing the large plate on the table.

"What's this, what's this?" He sang along, approaching to scan its contents.

"It's a plate from Avonlea," Belle clarified, and she seemed quite excited despite the fact that Rumplestiltskin was eyeing his dinner warily.

"Dearie… You know better than to cook anything I experiment on," he warned. It was partly a jest, but Belle blushed – deliciously, he might say.

"Well, it _was_ brought to me by magic…" Belle confessed.

"Aha!" Rumplestiltskin pointed out eloquently, one finger in her face.

"But… but… I was going through the cook book… you know, the one that I found in the kitchen?" He was staring blankly at her. "Um, anyway, I was looking for something new to prepare for tonight, and I stumbled on this recipe! I was familiar with it from… from back home." Belle's tone dropped an octave, as well as her excitement. "Just when I was thinking what a shame it was that I didn't have what it took to cook it, all the ingredients appeared, right there, in front of me! I guess your cook book is… magical?" Belle bit her lip, bracing herself for Rumplestiltksin's reaction. In turn, he had to bite his tongue not to stare at her mouth for too long.

"Let us see what poison this is," he grumbled, sitting in his chair.

Belle giggled and took the seat next to him. She insisted that the plate was quite the delicacy, and that she had prepared it according to the recipe of a famous chef. Rumplestiltskin snickered and made a nasty comment about how the chef needed to be cooked instead.

Surprisingly, the meal tasted… not unpleasant. Belle started to tell him the tale of its origin, growing more and more passionate as she progressed, and Rumplestiltskin couldn't bring himself to stop her and tell her that he already knew it in detail.

To his dismay, by the time Belle finished her story he had also finished eating everything on his plate. His eyes searched the empty platter incredulously, and when Belle followed his gaze, a triumphant smile lit across her face and she clapped her hands with glee.

"Now you owe me a story," she pointed out with her finger at him as she stood to gather the dishes. Rumplestiltskin, naturally, pouted.

Once Belle left the room, he grabbed his head in despair: _"The Dark One, lured with stories to eat his food…"  
_

* * *

On their fifteenth day together in the Dark Castle, Belle insisted that they needed more natural light, that she could barely see him in candlelight. Rumplestiltskin spent half of that day pondering on why on earth she desired to see him properly, and the other half frustrated by his inability to comprehend.

After determinedly clearing out each window from the great room and mumbling something about his feline vision, Belle obstinately performed the same task to all other windows on the ground and first floors. Alas, all his thick drapes were now tied aside with gold wire, neat bows adorning each.

Rumplestiltskin felt paralyzed and exposed in the blinding light surrounding him, his lair no longer hiding and protecting the beast. But then Belle came down, straightening her skirts and wearing a beaming smile, and all discomfort was forgotten.

"Looks like I contracted a decorator as well as a caretaker," he chuckled, making a pirouette to point out to all windows before clasping his hands to his front.

"A decorator who managed not to break anything in five days," Belle pointed out, curtsying.

She loved it when their moods were equally playful, when their eyes were alight with glee. She could feel it, between them, the fondness, the delight in one another. It was something new to her, and she found it quite heart warming. And she had been right. Rumplestiltskin did look far better in daylight. Far more… human, without flickering lights incessantly playing over his skin.

* * *

Belle's no-attack truce with Rumplestiltskin's pottery hadn't lasted long, though. On the sixteenth day from her arrival, there had been that peculiar incident with the ladder.

Belle had decided early morning that the top shelves in the kitchen were in desperate needed of cleaning, and so around noon that day she went outside to fetch herself a ladder. Fortunately, she had already located one on her quest for straw days before.

It was at the precise moment Belle was climbing the front steps of the castle carrying said ladder that Rumplestiltskin chose to return home from a deal the conventional way: strolling through his front doors. Belle smiled brightly at him in passing and he could do nothing but gape at the sight in front of his eyes and follow her like a puppy all the way to the kitchen.

"Come into the light," she said, her back to him but clearly sensing him scouting from the doorway. Rumplestiltskin snapped out of his Belle-induced haze and decided to fetch himself a cup of tea. It would not bode well to appear plainly dumbfounded, and tea would give him something to occupy his hands.

Belle seemed light as a feather as she slid that darn ladder between shelves like she had done it a million times before, at least until the old thing creaked and shattered underneath her feet and Rumplestiltskin found himself not with a cup of tea in his hands any more, but with a handful of Belle.

The original fear and shock quickly faded from her features to reveal calm and gratitude. But then her eyes strayed to his mouth and lower, to whatever the opened buttons on his shirt exposed… and that was Rumplestiltskin's cue to lay her back on her feet, or else his hands would start moving of their own accord. The sight of a conscious and _curious_ Belle in his arms was something he was _not_ prepared for.

"And this is how I lose yet another pottery item," he sighed in faked dismay, attempting to regain his composure.

"I'm sorry," Belle confessed, a delicate blush spreading across her face. "Thank you… I… I could maybe take up pottery classes in my free time… make up for the lost items?" She forwarded and Rumplestiltskin exited his kitchen laughing genuinely, for, really, she was saying the silliest things to him and, all in all, she was being too adorable for words. He wasn't there to see the smile that blossomed on her face in response.

It was thus impossible for Rumplestiltskin not to come plucking at the subject once more around dinner time:

"Maybe you would like to make a deal for a magic teapot, dearie? You know, the kind that never breaks, regardless of the handler's clumsiness." He rolled his eyes and grinned, looking every bit the cat that ate the canary.

"Mmm… Would it come with its very own magic teacup?" Belle inquired. "For otherwise I would feel bad for the teapot. It would feel so lonely. Nobody should feel lonely or lack a friend. Not even a magic tea pot."

"Not even an old monster?" Rumplestiltskin's eyes were boring into hers.

"Not even a teasing man," Belle smiled as she gazed at him, and it made him struggle to keep a frown on his face, his own smile fighting the corners of his lips.

"The monstrous Dark One is not recognised any more. What is this world coming to?" He shook his head in mock despair.

"_Monsters aren't witty,"_ Belle thought to herself. _"Monsters don't catch their caretakers as they fall off of ladders, nor listen to what they're being told like it's something worth hearing. No, Rumplestiltskin is no monster. He is a man that needs to be reminded of it."  
_

* * *

On the twenty-third day of having Belle in the castle, Rumplestiltskin hadn't been quite himself, for he had the preposterous notion of doing something nice for her.

He had felt restless all night and spent his morning brooding for hours on end before finally picking himself up and heading to the turret. He strolled through the small room, contemplating random objects in the décor, a cocky looking candlestick or a plump clock that he couldn't remember when or why he had brought there.

Tired and discomfited by his strange disposition, yet oblivious to what he could do to change it, Rumplestiltskin settled for contemplating his garden. The windows of the turret left little to be seen, for they were covered in dust and fumes from his potions. Belle hasn't made her way up here to clean them yet. Everywhere else in the castle there was a little trace of her, of her scent, her sweetness, her gentle care, but not here. This was still his place, his refuge. An idea shimmered though his mind.

Rumplestiltskin sighed when he caught a glimpse of Belle walking in the garden. She was wearing the dress that he had left for her the day before, and he thought she never looked more beautiful. Her brown curls were cascading on her shoulders, and she was waltzing her way onto the alleyways, smelling the occasional enchanted rose. He felt the irrational urge to get down there and engage her in a snow fight.

In a matter of seconds, he was seated beside her on a bench.

"Belle?" He resented the squeak in his voice when he spoke. She greeted him with one of her smiles that warmed his skin as much as the sun shining above them did.

Belle was not surprised by Rumplestiltksin's sudden materialization beside her. She was unsure whether it was a good thing or not. She saw the right corner of Rumplestiltskin's mouth twitch nervously and knew that was her cue to talk, or else he would just stay there in silence, observing her, until they would retire indoors.

"Hey." It wasn't much of a conversation starter, but she had come to trust him to catch her little signs, just as he would the fine point of a deal.

"Hey... I… I have something for you," he forwarded, and he looked so uncertain that for a moment Belle wondered if he planned on taking her to his turret to show her one of his puppets come to life. She shook her head, chastising her over-active imagination, and instead focussed on studying Rumplestiltskin's eyes. She would have expected them to be even more yellow in the bright sunlight, but she could spot hazel so clearly… she wondered if anyone ever got close enough to him to notice it.

Unconsciously, Belle shifted closer to him, so close that Rumplestiltskin could feel her breath on his face. It did horribly uncomfortable things to his insides, and he was sure his chest was not supposed to be hurting that way.

"What? What have you got to show me?" She managed, breaking her contemplation.

"It's a surprise!"

"Oh! So I am not to know yet…" she pouted.

"You will know as soon as you allow me to escort you to the castle, Milady."

"Well then," Belle grinned as she rose and straightened her skirts, "I see no point in waiting."

"Curious as a cat," he giggled under his breath as he rose. The quick flourish of his hands told Belle that he was about to magic them back to the castle.

"No, wait!" She almost shouted.

"What is it?" Rumplestiltskin froze, looking at her puzzled.

"I'm sorry, it's just that… couldn't we… _walk_ back instead?" She asked sheepishly, her voice tiny and hopeful.

"Oh." Rumplestiltskin's face crunched in a frown. It took him three blinks before his eyebrows arched and he seemed to understand.

"As the Lady wishes." He took a bow and offered Belle his arm.

"Good Sir," she giggled, her own hand resting in the crook of his arm, squeezing gently. He stared at it as though it might bite him.

"Thank you," she whispered in his ear, and he felt his skin prickle.

They walked the distance to the castle in silence, with Belle lightly grasping his arm. Belle's skirts occasionally brushed against his leather trousers and, whenever the wind hitched, Rumplestiltskin could feel her stray curls caressing his shoulder. He couldn't suppress a giggle thinking he could magically assist the wind in that endeavour, and Belle's eyes lifted curious to look at him. She then returned her gaze to the alley, smiling and shaking her head. As much as she liked words, she also seemed to understand when not to ask what he hadn't chosen to say, and Rumplestiltskin valued that about her.

He helped her up the stairs, both of them thinking how different they were now from that first night when she had helped him up those very same steps.

When they entered the castle, Rumplestiltskin carefully disentangled himself from her arm.

"So, _now_ will you allow me to magic us to the third floor? Or would you rather climb there," Rumpelstiltskin asked, wriggling his nose in distaste.

Belle grinned and he actually thought he got her approval to use magic until…

"Race you there!" Belle sprinted towards the staircase, blue skirts secured in her hands, eyes peeking over her shoulder long enough to catch a glimpse of a gaping Rumplestiltskin. "Well?"

"Bloody hell…" he whispered, aghast. A second to gather his wits and another to use a swift magic, and then they were both standing at the bottom of the staircase, feet perfectly aligned. He grinned smugly at her.

"Cheat," Belle chided, but her smile lit up the entire hallway. "Ready?" Her eyes sparkled, Rumplestiltskin surprised to recognize some of his own mischief in her gaze, and really, he wasn't ready at all. All he wanted to do was sit there for all eternity, gazing into that impossibly clear blue.

"Ready," he said begrudgingly.

"Go!" Belle signalled, and then they were both running up the stairs, laughing.

It was a tie when they reached the first floor, and Rumplestiltskin made a mental note to reconsider his athletic undertakings, for how could a princess be a match to the all-powerful Dark One? On the second floor, due to the fact that he had sprinted two steps at a time, he was slightly ahead of Belle, so he afforded a quick glance back. She looked more beautiful than ever, smile never faltering and blushed, and he felt that familiar warmth in his chest again. He had run accustomed, no, addicted to it by now. Maybe it was his chest constricting painfully that slowed him down, or maybe he simply let her win, because by the time they reached the third floor, Belle was one step ahead of him.

"I won!" She declared, breathless and radiant.

"Seems that you did," he agreed, the corners of his lips twitching.

Belle leaned into him, giving a nudge with her shoulder. "You let me win. That would be three gifts in one day."

"What was the second?" Rumplestiltskin frowned.

"Why, our walk, of course," she beamed.

"This way," he said, clearing his throat and pointing to the dark corridor on the right.

"Mmm," Belle eyed him suspiciously but let him lead her. They finally reached a large, encrusted wooden door that lay right at the end of the hallway, and Rumplestiltskin slid in front of her before Belle could touch its handle.

"Close your eyes," he instructed. One of Belle's eyebrows raised by its own accord, but she did as asked.

Rumplestiltskin's heart beat loudly in his chest at the sight in front of him. No one in centuries had deposited that kind of trust in him. Everyone eyed him warily. Everyone slept with one eye open when they had dealings with him, and yet this girl was gifting him her trust. He was unsurprised to see his hands were shaking a little when he moved to grab Belle's. He tucked both her hands safely into one of his before using his other hand to open the large doors.

He took a quick look around, finding that his magic had done a good job at clearing all cobwebs and dust, and tying up all thick drapes with gold wire, of course. He gently eased Belle into the room. Wait… something was missing, and he realized what soon enough. Next, a couch appeared right in front of the roaring fire in the chimney. Then a wool blanket dissolved on top of it. _"For when Belle would fall asleep reading,"_ he thought. Now, now it was _perfect_.

"Remember when you said I owed you a story?" Rumplestiltskin asked and Belle nodded. "Well, I found a way to clear the books", he chuckled. "Open your eyes."

And Belle did so, but not in a million years and a day would she have imagined the view to greet her. The room was enormous, luminous and colourful, unlike any other room she had seen in the Dark Castle. She wondered if it had always been like that, or whether Rumplestiltskin had changed it for her. But what she most loved about the room was that it was _abounding_ of books.

"A library…" Belle was unable to master her ridiculous grin.

"You are quite perceptive," Rumplestiltskin chuckled, feeling warmed down to his toes by her smile.

"You have a library!" She rushed to him and hugged him, grabbing him fiercely and holding him close, so close that she could feel his unsteady heart pounding against her chest.

Taken aback only by the thought that she might scare him, Belle let go a little, instead tilting on her feet to give him a quick kiss on the cheek. Judging from the surge of heat that instantly rushed to it under her touch, Belle thought it was fair to say that, even though his cheek was still coloured green, Rumplestiltskin was _blushing_. Belle then fully retreated, taking his hands in hers just as delicately as he had held hers only moments ago.

"Thank you! Truly, thank you."

"It's no matter," he managed, and the words came out hoarse and chocked. "You… approve of it?"

"Approve? I love it!" Belle beamed at him, and Rumplestiltskin thought he could be perfectly content being that "it".

"Well then… I'll leave you to explore," he mumbled as he started to slide awkwardly towards the door.

"Wouldn't you stay?" Belle pleaded.

"I… have matters… matters to attend to that can be postponed no longer," he said as he practically fled the room.

"Rumplestiltskin…" Belle called back.

He peeked his head in the doorway.

"You know you still owe me that story, right?" She grinned.

"Well… at least now you'll be able to find a book to get you started on making us that new pottery", he chucked.

"_Us… he said 'us'…"_ Belle couldn't rationalize on how she felt about that… but considering that she was starring wide eyed into the high ceiling of the room, yet failing to actually see anything, and beaming more than the sun, she supposed she probably liked it. "Us…" she tested it on her tongue. Yes, she liked it.

Rumplestiltksin walked in a haze to his turret. Belle's reaction to his surprise had certainly been… unexpectedly physical. Ah, but now she would probably spend all her free time there, in the library… curled in that bloody couch that he mindlessly conjured instead of sitting in _his_ chair and accompany him while he spun. _"No,"_ he shook his head. _"No."_ His petty needs were unimportant. This was for her, he did this so she would have a place of her own, a place where she would feel safe and content. He didn't know why it mattered to him that Belle felt content here with him, but it did.

But his meals were being served just as regularly after the "opening" of the library, his castle was being kept in the same pristine condition, and Belle would only stay in the library long enough to select a book and marvel at the room. She would still curl in his chair in the great room every night, only that now she would come armed with a variety of books. Books that they began discussing, and it marvelled her that Rumplestiltskin seemed to have read every tome in his library.

"Did you cheat on that, too?" She asked him one night while cuddling into the chair.

"What?" he asked, mock exasperation in his voice.

"Did you magic your way through reading all the books in your library?"

"No, dearie," he replied, somewhat taken aback. "I've just had a _very_ long time to read."

"How much time?" Belle inquired.

"Couple of centuries," he shrugged, and the hairs on Belle's arm raised at his tone.

"So…" Belle bit her lip "When I will… expire… you'll once again be all alone in the castle?" Her heart hurt for him, and when she heard him take a sharp intake of breath, she let herself fantasize that his heart also hurt at the thought of her demise.

"The castle will be long gone before any of us 'expires'," he said, something dark creeping in his voice.

"What… What do you mean?"

"Oh, this and that… you should go back to you reading, Belle."

She managed to do just so, acting against every cell in her body that told her to push the matter until she got her answer.

"I wish you'd trust me," she said, barely more than a whisper. Rumplestiltskin heard.

"I wish it, too," he whispered in turn. Belle did not hear. He thought it was for the best.

* * *

The day everything changed started no different than any other.

It was the forty second day since her arrival that Belle made her way to Rumplestitskin's turret. This was her first time climbing there since that evening when she went in search of a blue, magic potion.

Rumplestiltskin hadn't descended from the secluded room all day. Apart from the times when he was away striking a deal, as had happened the day before, he would always come down for at least one of his meals, or to take his tea. As Belle waited him with a late dinner, she rose increasingly worried by the hour. She pondered on whether it would be a good idea to venture up to his turret with his meal. She thought and thought, until she decided to think no more.

The narrow staircase was just as slippery as she remembered it, but now, the fear of the first night gone, she had enough wits about her to watch her step, careful not to overbalance the large tray carrying Rumplestiltskin's dinner. When she reached the top, she dared an eyeful at it, pleased to discover that she'd done quite a good job at keeping it safe. She'd managed to spill a little bit of salt, which she carefully threw back over her shoulder, making quite a show of handling the tray with one hand. She giggled at herself, thinking on what witty retorts Rumplestiltksin would have for her, seeing her in such ridiculous posture. Belle straightened and approached the turret door. It was closed, just as it was that first night, therefore it didn't alarm her.

But once she pushed it open with her elbow and stepped inside, the view left her breathless. Quite literally. Belle found Rumplestiltskin scrunched in a small chair, pulling at his hair and almost suffocating on the vapours coming out from several brewing potions scattered across the room. As fast as she managed, Belle put down her tray on the nearest unoccupied table and rushed to open one of the windows. It was long after the cool, fresh air cleared the room that Rumplestiltskin finally acknowledged her presence with a small whine.

He stood and walked towards her and, for the first time since she came here, Belle was afraid. Afraid of what had brought the Dark One into such a state. Rumplestiltskin looked just as old as the legend spoke of him. Instinctively, she took a cautionary step back, only to realize that she was pressed tight against the wall.

"I… I came to bring you your dinner." Her voice trembled.

It was then that Rumplestiltksin's eyes moved to the tray deposited beside them. Belle's own eyes flew to innumerable beans that were scattered all over the workbenches. There were shattered beakers everywhere that have once contained liquids now mingling onto the tables and floor. Scanning the stone floor, Belle spotted something that looked like a drawing laying face down at her feet. She bent to pick it up, and she almost succeeded when strong hands grabbed her arms, lifting her and shoving her towards the door.

"Go." Rumplestiltksin's voice seemed to come from very far away.

"Go?"

"I don't want you here, dearie," he spat.

"I can help you clean…"

Belle hadn't seen the blow coming, but she watched in shock as the tray was being propelled into the nearest wall by Rumplestiltskin's hand, pottery crashing into million pieces on the stone.

"That, that is something you _can_ clean!" he shouted, pointing a hand at the mess, his breath coming out ragged. And then his face went slack, devoid of any emotion.

Belle's heart pounded in fear. Fear of rejection, fear of brutality, she didn't know, but when she thought back on the thousand smiles that Rumplestiltskin had given her, she conquered her fear. Her anger, however, remained. She felt her jaw tighten and the resolve coil in her body as she met his words with a defiant lift of her chin.

She moved past Rumplestiltskin, wincing when her feet came in contact with broken glass, and bent down to where most of the remnant pieces laid, turning the tray face up and starting to gather them on it. She felt a tear prickle the corner of her eye, but she bit her lip hard and forced it not to fall.

This time it wasn't strong hands on her arms but hesitant arms that lifted her and caught her from underneath her knees, carrying her out of the room and depositing her at the top of the stairs. Belle was trembling, from her anger, from the tears she was holding back, maybe from the touch. Rumplestiltskin's own hands hesitated in front of him, as if he wanted to say something but decided on gesturing instead… as if afraid that Belle would strike him and that he had to keep her at bay. He took three steps back and then he was inside the gloomy room, closing the door behind him. His boots made no noise on the stone floor…

Belle didn't know how much time she stood there, facing the closed door, but by the time she made her way down the stairs and into her room, the full moon was almost out of sight. She felt out of sorts like never before, and it tormented her that she didn't know what troubled her most? That he had been upset? That he had taken it out on her? That she was not permitted to try to comfort him?

Belle cuddled deep into her pillows, wishing she'd know better how to handle a dark wizard at his worse. From time to time, she could hear more glass breaking, and it made her feel the loneliest since she had come to the castle. Although they were two people living together, they were not offering each other support. She thought that was a fate worse than being alone. Through the haze of sleep, Belle wondered what could possibly have been left for Rumplestiltskin to break.

She dreamt of how he would be coming down, the great room doors swinging open as he breezed in, swaggering on his heels and fluttering his hands, and she would welcome him like she always had, but she would not smile. But the second day there had been no Rumplestiltskin, nothing but silence. Belle did not attempt another climb to the turret. Instead, she cooked his meals like she always did, leaving them on the table only to collect them untouched hours later. Belle dusted and read, consoling herself with the company of words. And now three days have past and Rumplestiltskin still kept himself in self-imposed solace. Belle started wondering if he was truly up there at all.

The midnight of the third day Belle found her steps carrying her to the library. She curled on the couch with a book on time travel in her hand, frowning at her choice of reading. Not longer after, she was already engrossed in the marvellous ideas it contained. The air somehow changed in the room, but Belle paid it no attention until she heard the floor creaking under footsteps. _His_ footsteps.

"I came for that book you're reading," Rumplestiltskin said with a matter of fact tone.

"Pardon?" Belle straightened herself up and looked at him wide eyed. Those were his words for her, after three confusing, awful days?

"I need it," he shrugged, averting his gaze.

"You need it…" Belle lifted a brow. It was either that or lifting her hand to collide to the side of his face. At his curt nod she closed the book and held it up to him. He touched it, and yet his fingers didn't capture it, instead lingering on the cover and caressing the binding.

"I… I also came to apologize," he said, and his voice was barely above a whisper now. He had the air of a dog that expected to be punished. Belle eyed him, curious now more than crossed. She could see the lights from the fireplace dancing in his eyes… eyes that were still avoiding hers.

"Will you look at me?" She asked. And he did, the sadness in his eyes meeting not the resentment that he had expected, but a clear, yet questioning gaze of Belle. "Would you tell me what upset you so?"

Rumplestiltskin cringed and shrank on himself.

"Please?" Belle pressed. A maid didn't need or deserve to know why her master had treated her unkind. But then again, he hadn't come to his maid, armed with a mouthful of snide remarks. He came to his friend, offering apologies. She had to _act_ like his friend. She had to ask, she had to know. He needed her to know, even though he had no idea that he did. This was important.

Rumplestiltskin only gazed into the fire.

"You promised me a story. What if I chose it to be this one?" Belle tried again.

"There was no mention of choosing the story in the original deal." Rumplestiltskin looked at her, something of the old imp back in his tone. Belle was surprised to realize she was happy to hear it.

"That's because it wasn't a deal," Belle added mildly. "It was a promise."

He sighed, wondering how could she take to him again so quickly, so easily, after how he had treated her? Why would she even want to? Why wasn't she miles away from him? Why was she still _here_?

It felt good… having her here. Having her beside him when he was upset and she was calm. It brought him… comfort? Was this what comfort felt like? He couldn't remember. He didn't know if he had ever felt it. He sank into the couch next to her, their arms brushing each other, and he noted Belle staring at him wide eyed, probably startled by his sudden proximity.

Belle felt cut to ribbons by how sad, how forlorn Rumplestiltskin looked. Quite unaware of what she was doing, she touched his shoulder and gently pulled on it until he was lying on the couch, his head safely deposited in her lap. She brought the wool blanket to cover him, and they just laid there for what could have been hours, while she felt the tension slowly leaving his body.

"Monsters should not reveal their weaknesses," he tried to tease, but didn't quite succeed.

"You're not a monster," Belle gently murmured as her hand moved to caress his curls before she could think to stop it. He gave a startled little sound but didn't move away.

"Trust me, Rumplestiltskin. There is nowhere and no one that I would take this story to. This is between you and me. I'm your friend, remember? Forever, like I promised. Otherwise what's the point?"

He sighed, cuddling closer to her, and Belle smiled at his unconscious gesture.

"We're strange… and a bit awkward… uncertain and shy… we make mistakes… but above any of that, we're friends. The fact that you apologized is proof of that."

Rumplestiltskin nodded slightly. He thought he could feel a little light seeping into his soul. Or maybe it was a bit of her bravery…

"I'll share my tale," he said in a small, weary voice.

"An old story?" Belle asked.

"As old as time."

"And true?" She smiled.

"As it can be..." There was no trace of the imp in his tone.

"Once upon a time…" Belle started for him.

"There was a lame spinner who, to help his boy, took on himself a monstrous power… a power he didn't understand."

"You… _your_ boy?"

"Baelfire. His name is Baelfire. I would have done anything for him. I _will_ do anything for him!" Belle felt Rumplestiltskin tense in her embrace and she caressed his arm gently.

"What happened to Baelfire?" She asked.

Hearing the name of his boy on Belle's lips almost broke Rumplestiltskin's heart all over again. "I lost him."

"I… I'm sorry." Belle squeezed his shoulders.

"He…didn't approve of my new ways. And I wasn't prepared to give them up. We… parted... a long time ago."

"Do you know where he is now?" Belle asked and Rumplestiltskin nodded.

"Why were you so upset then?"

"I… one of the means of transportation to him failed."

"But you said that you will do anything for him. I know you won't stop until you find another way to get to him," she petted his hair.

"Oh, I have found it." Belle hear him swallow.

"What do you have to do?" She asked.

"Destroy our world."


End file.
